Baby talk
by Andra-ggfan
Summary: Just a bit of future Literati baby fluff drabbles.Started as a oneshot but apparently my muse was being very baby oriented so it got to 5 separate mini-stories.
1. Pillow talk

* * *

"What are you doing?"

"I'm protecting it."

It was silly. No doubt about it. He had come home to find his wife lying in bed, clutching to a pillow like it was a rope and she was sinking in quicksands. But if they had written their own vows he would have said _"I will love you and all you little quirks forever."_ So he lied down next to her and wraps his arms around her and the pillow.

"And what are you protecting it against?"

"Everything."

"Even me?"

"No. Not you. Everything else."

"You know I'm not going to let anything hurt it."

"I know. But you weren't here and it's so tiny and vulnerable that I needed to do something."

"And the pillow is helping it how?"

She turned around and faced him, still clutching the pillow.

"It keeps the bad away. See…it has Mickey Mouse on it. Nothing bad ever happens to Mickey."

"So a rat is protecting our baby?"

"No, silly, Mickey is protecting it. And me. And you."

He pulled the pillow away from her and placed a gentle kiss on her belly.

"I love you. Both of you."

"Would you still love us if there were five of us?"

"Is there anything you're trying to tell me?" he asks her, his usual smirk in place.

"No. But I've been having these dreams lately were I end up having four kids and you leave us."

"I would never leave you again. Even if you had ten kids. And the doctor already assured is that there's only one it."

"But what if he was wrong?"

"If he was wrong then that's it. We'll raise our four kids together and use birth-control from now on."

She laughed and hit him in the head with the pillow. "You can't be serious for a minute, can you?"

"Well, it's a ridiculous conversation."

"Get used to it, mister. You have five more months of me and my crazy mood swings and cravings in the middle of the night."

He smiled at her…One of his rare, precious smiles that she knows are kept just for her and he didn't tell her the truth about what he's thinking, about the fact that she always has crazy mood swings and cravings in the middle of the night and that he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I'll survive."

"You better because I'm not going to be the one that runs to the store at 1.30 to get cookie-dough."

"As long as you do the giving-birth part I'll do all the store runs that you need me too."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

"I'm ok with it. In any case you can't be worse than your mother. Luke went insane looking for watermelons in the middle of December. And I, opposed to him, have this wonderful thing called a supermarket that's open 24 hours only 5 minutes away."

"We're really doing this, aren't we?"

"There's no turning back now."

"And we're going to make it?"

"Of course we will. We have your mom, Luke and the rest of that insane asylum you call home ready to help us." He replied with a reassuring smile and kissed her on the forehead.

"Jess…"

"Huh?"

"I want some ice-cream…"


	2. Clashing Casablanca

**A/N: As the summary says just another baby drabble that will hopefully make you smile. Enjoy!**

"_Not again!"_

That was his first thought when he entered the living room of their apartment. He decided he had to stop working late. That was the only way to stop coming home to his crying or cooking wife. Yes, cooking. But that's another story for another time. Right now he was looking at his wife that was sitting on the couch staring at the black TV screen and crying. Box of Kleenex in hand, of course. He sat down next to her and she quickly jumped in his arms, and wrapped her arms around his neck. This was bad.

"What happened this time?"

"She left! How could she leave? She said she still loved him but she left! She should have stayed!" And a new batch of tears. _"Great!"_

"Rory, who left?"

"She left!" She looked up at him like he was crazy. Wait…he's the crazy one?

"I understood that part. But who is she?"

"Ilsa! Ilsa left! And I know he told her to leave but she should have stayed…he looked so sad in the end…" _"Oh, no…not Casablanca!"_

"Rory, look at me…It's just a movie. And he had Louis, he wasn't left alone."

"But he loved her. And she loved him! And they were just perfect together." There was only one solution to this problem. He took out his phone and dialed her number.

"Lorelai…it's Jess. We have a problem."

"_What is it this time?"_

"Casablanca."

"_Put her on."_

He gave his wife the phone.

"Your mom."

"Mommy! She left!" He could hear the whole conversation over the phone. Not that he hadn't heard it before. He remembered the one about Bambi. Man, that had been a bad one!

"_I know she left, baby, but…but…but she came back!"_

"And she left Laszlo? How could she leave Laszlo? They were after him!"

_"Sweetie, mommy can't make two Ilsas so you just have to decide on who she is allowed to leave or mommy will have to tell you the story about the little ménage-a-trois that happened after closing time in Rick's Café."_

"Ew! I so don't want to hear that story!"

_"So who is she allowed to leave then?"_

"Laszlo. Her and Rick are perfect together."

_"Ok. So she left but after the war ended Laszlo fell in love with a beautiful American girl and Ilsa bumped into Rick on the street and they all lived happily ever after in the same house!"_

"And Louis?"

_"He married a rich widow and had 5 kids."_

"Thank you, mommy!"

"_No problem, kid. Now put that hoodlum husband of yours back on the phone!"_

"She wants to talk to you."

"Yes?"

_"You listen to me! You will never let her watch a movie again, or read a book or do anything for that matter!"_

"Yes, ma'am!"

_"Don't call me ma'am! Now go take care of her!"_

"Thanks for the help. Bye."

_"Bye!"_

"Better now?"

"Much!"

"I never thought I'd say this but I actually like it better when you cook."

"My cooking isn't that bad!"

"Of course not…" _"If you don't eat the results…"_

"So how was your day?"

"Decent. Yours?"

"Annoying! They keep treating me like I'm a moron! The fact that I'm pregnant doesn't mean that I can't do my job!"

"Well, the doctor said you should take it easy."

"I write! It's not that hard. It's not like I'm carrying bricks up and down stairs!"

He decided to let the subject go…It's not like he could ever convince her to work less.

"Speaking of the baby, I got it something today."

"Show me, show me!" he watched as her whole face lit up and her hands reached out for his messenger bag but he caught them before she could get it.

"Be nice and I'll show you!"

"Fine, just show me!"

He let go of her hands and opened the bag, pulling out a small package. He unwrapped it and held out the small piece of clothing in front of her. She looked at it and started laughing.

"You got out baby a Clash onesie!"

"I thought it was cute…"

"It's more the cute! It's perfect!" She gave him a big smile and kissed him full-force on the mouth. "Did I tell you lately just how much I love you?"

"You're not that bad to have around either." He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and gave her a peck on the lips. She put her feet up on the couch and rested her head in his lap, holding the onesie up and looking at it.

"Lane will be so jealous…"


	3. Lab experiments

**A/N: Chapter 3 is here and it presents…drum roll please…the adventures of Rory cooking. To all the people who reviewed: Thank you. You make me smile and make my days better. Enjoy!**

* * *

He entered the small kitchen only to discover that it looked like a war zone. There was flour everywhere, pots and pans, plates and glasses each one of them filled with a different substance thrown around every counter and in the middle of it all, on the floor, his wife looking at a tray that held a cake and talking on the phone. Or at least he guessed it was a cake, seeing as the thing looked liked it belonged in a laboratory being studied rather than in the kitchen.

"I did that!"

Silence…

"Uh-huh…"

Silence again.

"I did just as the book said! Why can't you ask Luke to explain to me what I did wrong?"

He watched her poke the cake with a knife, not daring to cut it.

"I know he said to stay away from the kitchen but you aren't much help and I can't reach Sookie!"

The knife went deeper inside the cake.

"Well how can I be a good mother if I can't bake?"

She pulled out the knife and started cutting on the other side.

"Of course you were a good mother but you always had Sookie to help you with the baking part."

Finally the piece was cut.

"Yes, he can cook but I wanted to be able to help her make cookies for her bake-sales at school."

She put the knife next to the tray and picked up a fork.

"Of course it's a she!"

She picked up a small piece of cake and looked at it closely, almost trying to decide if she was going to risk it or not.

"No, I'm not naming my daughter Belinda! Listen mom, I'm going to taste it. It can't be worse then your chocolate-chip cookies."

She closed her eyes and tried to eat the thing but quickly spit it out.

"On second thoughts, it's worse! Much, much worse!"

Silence filled the room again.

"Yes, I know you told me so. Ok, mom, I'm going to throw this thing out before Jess comes home."

She grabbed the knife and the fork from the tray.

"I love you too, mom. Say hi to Will and Luke for me, ok?"

She reached out and out them on the counter closest to her.

"Ok. Bye."

She pressed the off button on the phone and quickly placed it on the floor before standing up with the tray in her hands. She turned around and saw Jess standing in the doorway with his usual smirk plastered on his face. She leaned in and gave him a kiss before throwing the cake in the garbage bin and placing the tray in the sink.

"So how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough."

"Mom says hi."

"I imagined. So why did you try to bake a cake?"

"Because every good mother knows how to bake. Do you think Donna Reed ever made a cake that looked like that? What if she hates me?"

"Donna Reed?"

"No, our baby!"

"She won't hate you. It's impossible for any living being to hate you."

"But I can't cook!"

"I'll help her with the cooking part and you'll help her with the school stuff. Deal?"

"Deal!" she smiled and gave him a kiss. "I knew I kept you around the house for a reason."

"Oh really? So that's why you're keeping me around?"

"That and because you make really good coffee. Exceptional actually."

"No!"

"But Jess…"

"No!"

"One cup!"

"No!"

"A tiny, tiny little cup!"

"No!"

"The smallest cup known to man!"

"No!"

She crossed her arms and gave him the Gilmore pout.

"It's not going to work."

"But I haven't had real coffee in four months!"

"And you're not going to for another four."

"But she wants coffee. I can tell that she does!"

"And I want her to have just one head. And when did it become a she?"

"This morning. I'm sure it's a she. A mother's intuition is never wrong!"

"Should I remind you that two days ago you were practically pushing me out the door to get me to go to the store and buy blue paint for the room?"

"Pft! So I've been wrong once before! Sue me!"

"Actually, if you are right now it means that you were wrong for the last two weeks."

"I know I am right now."

"So a girl, huh?"

"Yup."

"She's not dating until she's thirty."

"We'll see about that, won't we?"

"Better make that forty."

"Jess, our daughter is going to date whoever she wants, whenever she wants!"

"Of course…after her fiftieth birthday. Until then no boy will come near her."

"You're impossible!" she walked away from him and sat on the living room couch, turning on the TV. He remained in the kitchen and started cleaning up, waiting for her to calm down a bit. Yes, they fought. Nope, life wasn't perfect. But it was, probably, as good as it got. So he continued to gather the dishes and place them in the sink. He started washing them when he heard her footsteps sneak up behind him and her arms circled his waist.

"We'll wait until she's twenty and then talk about it again, ok?"

He smiled and kept washing the dishes…Yup…life was pretty good, indeed.


	4. Cribs

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews and to Cat, for the BETA. Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

She is sitting in the big rocking chair watching him as he throws the screwdriver, frustrated, pushes all the pieces of the someday-hopefully-crib and picks up the assembling instructions again. After her estimations it's the seventh time he's thrown the screwdriver, the tenth time he's pushed everything away, the forth time he's looked at the instructions (after convincing himself that he has absolutely no chance of ever putting the thing together without them) and the umpteenth time he's growled. She really wishes her mother was here to watch, this was turning out to be more entertaining then watching Taylor bug Luke about decorating his place for some festival.

"You know that there's a good chance that this kid graduates from high school before you finish putting that thing together?"

"Well these instructions don't make any sense! What is Part B supposed to be? They should put little stickers or something on them so I don't have to rack my brains trying to figure out what these drawings are supposed to be!"

"Can I help now?"

"You're pregnant; you're not allowed to help."

"Jess, I'm not made out of glass, you know? I've already stopped going to work unless I really have to but that doesn't mean that I have to sit in bed all day long. I can look at the instructions and you'll do the actual work, deal?"

"Nope."

"You're being stubborn and impossible."

"And you're still not allowed to help."

"It's moments like this when I wonder why I married you."

"Why, because I'm adorable, obviously."

"That must be it. Well, if I can't help then why don't you call Luke?"

"He's working."

"He can let Caesar in charge of the diner and he and mom could drop by."

"It took him 4 hours to assemble Will's crib. What makes you think he could actually help?"

"He has experience now."

"If I don't make any progress in the next hour you can call him, ok?"

"Fine."

He picks up the papers again and starts looking at them while occasionally glancing at the pieces of dark-brown wood scattered all over the floor of the room. He reaches out and grabs one of them and holds it in his hand, comparing it to one of the drawings. He turns it around a few times and places it next to him, grabbing another one. He repeats the whole spinning-staring process a couple of times until he seems satisfied with the results and grabs the screwdriver again and starts the assembly process once more. After a couple of minutes he growls again and throws the pieces he'd been holding.

"Why did we buy this crib?"

"Because it's beautiful."

"Beautiful and impossible to put together."

"It says "easy assembly" right there on the box."

"Easy if you understand the thought process behind this whole scheme. Apparently in the interest of making the box smaller they've taken everything apart. Would it have been that hard to leave some pieces connected so I didn't have to use 5,000 different screws?"

"You're starting to sound like Luke when he's ranting about one thing or another."

"As soon as I get a desire to dress in flannel you can shoot me."

"I'll keep that in mind. So now are you going to get help?"

"It hasn't been an hour, has it?"

"Almost."

"You're lying to me."

"Well I want this crib done before baby comes."

"It will be…I hope."

He takes the papers again but after a few minutes of staring and only five growls that she's counted he pushes them aside and leans back against the wall.

"This is giving me a headache."

"It's fun."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

"I am."

She gets out of the chair and walks, wobbling a little and sits down on the floor in front of him, leaning her back against him. He places a kiss on the side of her forehead.

"You know I'll get it done, right?"

"I do…but I think baby is trying to tell you something."

"Huh?"

She takes his hand and places it on her belly.

"Feel that?"

He waits for a few moments until he feels a slight kick. And then another one, a stronger one.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

"Amazing…"

They remain like that for a few minutes, silently enjoying the kicks of their baby.

"You'll call Luke now?"

"Yup. But you and your mom are not allowed to place bets on how long it takes us."

"Spoilsport."

"And no mocking!"

"I resent that! We would never mock you!"

"Nope, never…How silly of me to even suggest that you would mock us."

"Extremely silly. I don't know were you got those ideas. Now can we go make that call?"

"Fine."

_Later that day…_

Rory and Lorelai are sitting on the couch watching Jess and Luke struggling with the crib.

"I say two hours."

"Three tops."

"Maybe four."

"No more then five."


	5. Themes

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait but I'm running out of ideas and time(real life hates me, I swear!).But better late then never,right?If there's something you'd like to see leave me a message and I'll do my best to write a chapter about it.Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy this and thank you for the reviews and to Cat for the BETA.**

* * *

They were sitting on the couch in the living room, talking about the same subject that they had been discussing for the past 48 hours.

"The ocean?"

"Too _The Old Man and the Sea._ The jungle?"

"Lions and tigers and bears! Oh my!"

"What's wrong with my theme?"

"It's going to give the kid nightmares."

"But they are going to be friendly animals. You know, smiling and playing?"

"And then a day will come when he or she will catch the remote and see a lion eating a gazelle and sleep in our bed until we get rid of the animals."

"Or we could keep the remote hidden and he or she will be very happy in his little magical forest."

"It's stupid calling the kid he or she every time we talk about it. Can we please ask the doctor next time what it is?"

"But that way it's not going to be a surprise."

"And we could actually decide on something without arguing for hours over how it will send him or her in therapy."

"With us as his parents and our families it will probably be in therapy by the time it's ten. Only the whole 'my parents are step cousins' thing will account for at least twenty sessions. Now can we go back to picking a theme for the room?"

"Explain to me once again why we need a theme."

"We don't need a theme; I just thought it would be nice to have one."

"Why can't we juts pick a color and get it over with?"

"Because every kid on the planet is going to have a pink or blue room."

"Then let's paint the room green."

"Green is the new pink. Gah!"

"Huh?"

"When she was pregnant with G.G., Sherri threw a baby shower where everything was green because apparently green is the new pink, or at least it was in 2003."

"So no green. Yellow?"

"Yellow means pale and pale means sick."

"Why of course. White?"

"Too hospital like."

"Black?"

"Are you serious?"

"Nope."

"This kid will be twenty by the time we decide on something."

"Probably."

"There has to be a better way to do this."

"Flip a coin? Roll a dice?"

"We're supposed to be able to make decisions…for Christ's sake we're going to be parents in a few months and we can't even decide on the color of the room. How are going to decide important stuff?"

"Flip a coin? Roll a dice?"

"You're not helping!"

"Well this is ridiculous. We've been trying to pick something for the last two days. We're never going to agree so I say we each get half the room and get it over it!"

"No. Next idea."

"Why not?"

"Because…next!"

"I'm out…we've been through thousands of ideas only to shoot each one down."

"But it has to be perfect. Or do you want to go back to trying to pick a name?"

"We probably should. We're three months away and still nowhere near an agreement."

"That's because you insist on naming him after Hemingway's characters."

"And you insist that we don't. What's wrong with Robert?"

"Not this again! I agreed to Catherine as a middle name; although why would you want to name your daughter after that woman I'll never know, now let it go, before I poke my ears out!"

"I don't think you can poke your ears out…you can cut them, though."

She shot him a glare and huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What? I'm just saying…" he tried to move closer to her, but she backed away from him. "Come on, Ror…" he cupped her face with his left hand and she let him this time, sliding closer to him on the small couch. "Calm?" She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder.

"How are we ever going to make it? We can't even pick something as simple as this…how will we decide on important things?" He kissed her on the top of her head.

"We'll make it. If your mother could raise a kid at sixteen I'm sure we'll do just fine."

"But I don't want to do fine…I want it to have everything, and be happy."

"It will…I'll do everything I can to make sure it has everything it wants."

"Thank you…"

"What for?"

"For this, for everything, for agreeing to my crazy ideas, for being here."

He turned around so that they were face to face and lifted her head up with his hand, smiling at her.

"I'll always be here, ok?"

She nodded and kissed him.

"I'm just scared."

"So am I…but we'll make it."

"Ok…Now let's go back to finding a theme."

"No. I can't do that anymore. My brain is going to fling itself off a building soon."

"Come on…" Bottom lip going up, eyes getting bigger…it was the pout. The infamous Gilmore pout. She might have changed her last name but the pout was still very much Gilmore. He pointed his finger accusingly at her and tried to act serious, although they both knew he had already caved.

"You are not allowed to use that…"

"But, Jess…" she drew out the vowels of the words.

"And even more, if you ever think of teaching our kid that I'll steal all your books."

"You wouldn't…Wait…books!"

"Huh…? What about them?"

"It's perfect!"

"What is?"

"We have our theme!"

"You're serious?"

"Of course…think about it. We both love books and it will probably learn to read before it starts walking straight."

"It's…good."

"So you agree?"

"I agree." He laid her head on his lap before kissing her belly and whispering: "You hear that, kid? We have a theme." Her hands started playing in his hair, while he looked up at her.

"I'll still steal your books if you teach our baby the pout."

"I won't, I love them too much. I'll just ask mom to do it."


End file.
